The Stone Cold Touch
by LittlePrettyLove
Summary: After Torchwood operative, Miriam Blaustein is sent back in time by a Weeping Angel, she has no choice but to live out the rest of her life as a member of the first Torchwood group. She soon finds that her investigations keep coinciding with that of Earl Phantomhive and soon, an agreement is made between the Guard Dog and the alien hunters.
1. Chapter 1

Cardiff, 22nd November 2019

The cold autumn hair nipped at my nose as I left the cafe clutching a paper bag in my gloves hand holding my lunch to go. It was a new vegetarian restaurant that had all kind of junk food that I had been craving all week. An end of the week treat that I believed was well deserved.

I hadn't been out in the field for just under two weeks and I was getting bored of just sitting in the office doing field based paperwork whilst everyone else seemed to be going here, there, and everywhere whilst I was staring at the Excel and Word screens simultaneously, just wishing something would pop up for me to go and investigate.

Yet the delightful greasy bag was my saviour for the boring week.

As I walked through the city centre to the Torchwood base with my earphones soothing me to the soft tones of a history podcast, I couldn't help but feel so alone. All of these people rushing past me and I still didn't really have anyone. My parents were in Lewisham, my friends were dotted everywhere but Cardiff, I was still new to everything despite living here for six months.

Don't get me wrong, I liked everyone in the office and was going out for drinks with them tonight, but I still felt so... out of place.

Once I walked the few blocks to the Torchwood base, one that now stood in the middle of the city centre, rather than where the Hub used to be by the harbour. Unlike the underground Hub, the new building was built above ground. To an untrained eye, there doesn't seem to be an entrance. No automatic doors or anything.

However, move into the peripheral block and there's a keycard scan for the entrance. The peripheral block stops anyone who doesn't need to be there from noticing it. Similar to walking past another house on a housing estate, if you're not looking for a particular number, you're not going to acknowledge it. Same idea works here.

I scanned my keycard and walked through the glass door and took the lift to the second floor. As I exited, I entered the small office meant for a team of seven. Yet only three were in as two were away on a mission and our leader, Frida, was away on a three day holiday to Iceland, putting Brian in charge.

Ollie, Brian, and Catrin were hard at work/ playing games on their phones.

Ollie looked over at me as I entered the room and quickly ran over to me as I took my earphone out.

"Oi, Mia, guess what?" he exclaimed

"What?" I replied as I set my lunch on my desk

"We've been assigned a mission! We head out tomorrow. Just check your emails for the details,"

He took one of the chairs at an empty desk and sat beside me just as I had taken a seat and unlocked my computer. Once that was done, I opened my emails as I put a hand in my takeaway bag and bulled out a crisp golden chip and munched on it happily.

I looked back at the screen and saw I had gotten an email containing a PDF from Brian.

Brian looked over at me and nodded. He wasn't much of a talker but amazing out in the field.

'Miriam,

We've been alerted of a location that appears to be a hotspot for disappearances. After being searched thoroughly by authorities, there seems to be no indication of foul play or any sign of the missing cases being there despite them being seen going in by witnesses as well as peers of the missing stating their intentions to go into the location.

Both you and Ollie have been assigned to this mission.

More details are in the PDF.

Love

Brian'

I chuckled at the 'love' and glanced again at Brian who was now packing his things ready to go home after a five o'clock start that morning.

"You two leave tomorrow morning and have a scope of the area. I've booked a B&B for you so you don't have to camp in your cars. Everything you need is on that file,"

With that, Brian left the office.

I opened up the bag that held my realistic veggie burger, fries, coleslaw and milkshake much to Ollie's surprise

"Jesus, how much did all of that cost?"

I shrugged.

"My cupboards have been bare for the past two weeks. It's a payday treat," I hummed as I dug into the burger.

I clicked on the PDF and waited for it to load. As soon as it came up, I scrolled through it thoroughly and re-read it several times.

The location was an abandoned house (it always fucking is) called Grattleworth House in a village outside of Southwold, a seaside town in Suffolk. According to the reports, 58 people had been reported missing from that location in the past 40 years with a staggering 27 of them being in the past 2 years alone.

There had been theories of Satanic ritual due to the various pentagrams that had been so artfully sprayed on the walls, yet there has been no signs of any ritual taking place. Another theory was that it was a crackhouse, yet again, no sign of needles, pipes or traces of paraphernalia anywhere.

So of course, aliens have been pulled into question. So Ollie and I have been tasked to have a poke around, do some readings, and if worst comes to worst, eliminate any threat.

"So we're travelling down to Suffolk tomorrow? Fuck me, that's a total of ten shitting hours in a car with you," I groaned jokingly to which Ollie elbowed me in the ribs.

"Hey, it'll be fun!" he chimed as he pinched a chip

I mean, I will be paid extra for working through the weekend, but I had so much I wanted to do this weekend like stay in bed and maybe go to the gym. But a bit of bonding with Ollie shouldn't be too bad. He's a sweet guy and not too bad on the eyes.

"I guess it'll be fun,"

—

I could not have been more wrong.

The traffic going around London was horrific as traffic came to a complete standstill for over two hours due to an accident on the M25 and my bladder was killing me. The quick stops we made for food and coffee also included a toilet break in which our next one was due just as we were passing London. Yet someone decided to have a slip up in their car and ruin the weekend.

I had been up since 6 o'clock packing my clothes as well as making sure all the weapons and reading equipment was in check. We should have been very fucking close to getting there, now we were behind schedule.

I clutched the steering wheel tightly as another dull throb hit my stomach. The radio was blaring the 12 o'clock news followed by the traffic updates that were being read by someone with an unnaturally sunny disposition.

'On the M25 just up by Uxbridge, there is an overturned lorry that's been blocking the road for just over an hour, bringing traffic to a complete standstill. There are workers at the scene trying to remove this blockage, however it seems traffic might be this way for another hour to two hours, so try to avoid it if you can'

"For God's sake!" I cried

I noticed people had started getting out of their cars after the traffic update to stretch their legs despite the heavy downpour.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and looked in the backseat for my oversized yellow raincoat as the heavy rain kept on taunting me ruthlessly. I didn't care if we need to remain in our cars, there was a grassy verge with some heavily condensed bushes and there was no way in hell I was passing up this opportunity!

Once my fingers grazed the smooth material of the raincoat, I put it on and pulled the hood up before turning to Ollie.

"If you need to piss, my Starbucks mug is empty," I said before running out and slamming the door behind me.

I wove through the two lanes before jumping over the metal barrier. I just needed to make my way up the grassy verge and behind some bushes. Once I had put all my strength into not soiling myself whilst running, I found a decent enough bush that was out of sight of other cars, yanked my tights down and hitched up my skirt before squatting.

As I was relieving myself, something was waving in and out of my blind spot. It was too shapeless and wispy to be caused by a branch. I craned my neck and looked around to see that on the branch next to me, there was a black ribbon just hanging there on the branch.

Of course a load of old crap can be found on the side of the road but there was just something off about the ribbon's position. It seemed like it had been placed there purposely despite being quite aged.

I quickly pulled my tights up and ignored the ribbon.

It wasn't worth anything.

I ran back down to the car, with my coat billowing behind me as there were several honks of horns as I ran down the verge and over the barrier. I wove between cars to my slightly dated red car as the rain seemed to get heavier.

Once I was at the car door, I pulled off my coat before getting in and chucking it into the backseat.

"Fuck me, that's better," I sighed

Ollie looked over at me and snorted. He put his hand to his mouth as the snorts soon became howls. Which soon became cackles.

"What?" I asked

This just set him off again.

"You... you... ha HA!" he couldn't even form a fucking sentence

It took about a minute for him to compose himself, but even then, he was chuckling deeply into his hand and trying to bite it in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"You didn't pull your skirt down," he said finally before erupting into another fit of laughter

I looked down and saw that my short black bodcon skirt was still hitched up to my waist, exposing my underwear through my tights.

Fucking shitting pissing fucking HELL!

"SHIT!" I yelled as I tugged it down an remembered the honking I had received as I ran down the verge. With my coat blowing behind me in the wind.

Oh hell.

This really wasn't the car journey I had in mind.

I ignored Ollie as I leaned over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out some baby wipes for my hands before closing it again. I gazed out at the road ahead of us which was still not moving.

As I still had half a tank of petrol, I switched on the engine and put the heating on. Just so we had a bit more warmth in the otherwise freezing car.

—

Nine and a half hours.

That's how long the rest of the journey took. We were supposed to be on the road for just five hours, but it had taken us nine fucking hours to get to Bleakmore Market, then another half an hour to find the B&B that was supposed to keep us for the next few nights due to a mixture of us missing the turning and the SatNav having no idea where the hell we were.

We ended up having to turn the damned machine off as it kept telling us to 'perform a U turn when possible'. In hindsight, it was an indication of something being amiss in the village, yet Ollie and I chalked it up to us being in an isolated village with nothing around.

Once we finally pulled up to the B&B, we were surprised to find that the place opposite us was none other than Grattleworth House.

Ollie and I got out of the house and walked over to the gate, just to see if we could peer in. Unfortunately, it had gotten too dark to see the silhouette of the house and neither of us had any of our weapons at hand, so it didn't feel right to climb the gate just yet.

"It's really fucking spooky looking at it like this," Ollie murmured

"We'll check it out tomorrow morning. For now, I need some food and some sleep," I burbled as we started walking back to the car.

"What are you thinking it is?" I asked as we got to the car

Ollie shrugged.

"Could be anything. A small rift, some really clean aliens, who knows?"

"It better not be a rift. The big fucking rift back in Cardiff is bad enough," I groaned

I grabbed the luggage from the car and passed Ollie his stuff. We walked to the front of the building that in the dark, could make out was Victorian in style with stone steps leading up to the entrance.

Once there, Ollie and I walked to the front desk where there was a middle aged woman sat with a tight bun on her head. She looked up at Ollie and I and smiled warmly at us.

"Hello there, do you have a reservation?"

I nodded.

"We've booked separately under the names of Miriam Blaustein and Oliver Jones," I replied

The woman typed our names into the aged computer before nodding and grabbing two keys from behind her.

"If you two would follow me,"

We trailed after the woman through the hallway and into a shorter hallway before being given a key.

"These rooms are adjoining and do share a bathroom, if that's ok?" We both nodded, too tired to care that we had to share.

"Breakfast will be served from 7am tomorrow morning until 11am,"

We thanked her before disappearing into the first room that was connected to the other via the bathroom. Once we turned the lights on, we found that the room was pretty cosy with a mustard yellow colour scheme and a large double bed.

I set my luggage down on the bed and climbed up, watching as Ollie left through the bathroom and into his room.

I yawned at stretched, the car journey fucking up my back and arse to the point I didn't want to stand up. Yet, I pushed myself to stand up and open my small suitcase. I dug through the bits and pieces I had packed before pulling out my long blue and white stripy pyjama bottoms and plain light grey tank top.

I stripped off and replaced my clothes with pyjamas. As much as I wanted to shower, I only really had the energy to brush my teeth, so I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste before walking into the bathroom. I quickly dampened my toothpaste and scrubbed as I looked around the bathroom.

I spat out the contents of my mouth and gargled some water.

I knocked on Ollie's side.

"I'm shattered, so um, goodnight," I said through the door

"G'night," Ollie called

As I walked into my room, I switched off the light and climbed into bed. Letting sleep drag me off into the darkness.

—

I awoke with a start.

Something really didn't feel right.

I checked my phone and squinted at the bright numbers that read: 4:55am. I groaned and shut my eyes, but something really wasn't sitting right with me. It was too quiet to have been woken by something. I know I had gone to bed early, but I had an early start and a long day the previous day but I also really did not feel good about something.

I slowly got up and creeped over to my window, now wide awake.

The window was looking down the dark pathway in the direction of Grattleworth House and saw nothing out of the ordinary other than the blackness of the night.

I walked into the bathroom and knocked on Ollie's door. Immediately, I heard a yelp and the door suddenly opened.

"Did you feel it too?" Ollie asked

His eyes were wide open in shock. He looked absolutely fucking petrified and yet we didn't even know what was causing it. Was something watching us? Was there a certain amount of energy being released?

Whatever it was, it couldn't wait until morning.

I grabbed my long dark green coat and put it on over my pyjamas and slipped on my trainers before grabbing my phone and car keys. I quickly rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out a thick navy blue woolen scarf to keep me from getting too cold. I quickly wrapped it around my neck and waited for Ollie.

Ollie was stood beside me in a puffy coat and trainers and nodded at the door.

We both walked out of the building and to my car where out of the boot, I pulled down the cloth that hid the array of firearms we were allowed to take for this weekend.

I grabbed my SIG-Sauer P226 and handed Ollie his Zoraki 925. Despite there being rifles in the back and as tempting as they were to take with us, the handguns seemed to be a safe option.

Ollie and I nodded to each other as I closed the boot. An indication that until we knew what we were dealing with, we were to remain absolutely silent. A quick squeeze of the hand as a last attempt at comfort and we made our way through the dark and over to Grattleworth.

I turned on my phone flashlight as we crossed the road and over to the gate, which we found was easy enough to climb. In an unspoken agreement, I handed Ollie my phone and made my way up and over the gate before reaching through the metal bars to grab my phone so I could illuminate Ollie's way up and over.

Once we were both in, I kept the light as dim as I could as we approached the rundown house. It was a huge Georgian manor house that was just as imposing as it was derelict. As we approached the house, we made out a graveyard to the left of us. Not something uncommon in these types of houses but definitely added to the creep factor.

We walked in through the front door which seemed to be already open and recoiled as there was damp all over the walls. I felt around and found a light switch which only emitted a low glow. Ollie and I both nodded again and I pointed right and pointed at him to go left.

We both walked our separate ways where in the far corner was a room that appeared to be an old study. I opened a drawer and rifled through the papers where nothing of interest was found. I then looked down at the desk itself and shone the torch at it.

Something was scratched into the desk. I looked down at where my hand skimmed over the rough texture and read through furrowed brows.

'Don't blink'

That was odd. Who would scratch something like into a desk? Ominous much?

Where had I read that before?

I looked back at the door as I heard a shuffling of feet.

The doorway was dimly lit but the light was now beginning to flicker. I considered leaving the room but something was in here. I could feel it.

I got down on the floor and recoiled as I felt the damp carpet soak through my fingers and release a disgustingly mouldy smell into the air.

Other than pentagrams that had been spray painted onto the wall, nothing of interest had been scratched into the walls. I heard another shuffle which piqued my interest again. This time, I didn't follow my gut and stay put, I got up and started treading out of the room.

My phone suddenly started ringing.

I looked down and saw it was coming from Ollie.

I picked it up and hissed down the receiver:

"What is it?"

A voice that I did not recognise answered.

"Oh good, you picked up. This is Miriam Blaustein, yes?"

My eyes widened. If this wasn't Ollie speaking to me, then who was? And more importantly, what had he done to Ollie?

"Who is this?" I whispered

"My name is Gordon Jones. I'm calling on behalf of my grandfather, Oliver Jones. You know him, right?"

What the hell was going on? This guy sounded much too old to be Ollie and there was no Welsh accent.

"Who are you and how did you get his phone?" I asked my voice now started to tremble as I realised things really weren't right.

"He told me to tell you to shut up and listen. The house is infested with Weeping Angels and you need to get out as soon as you can. You are to go back to Cardiff tomorrow and never set foot in this place without a solid plan,"

My blood ran cold at Weeping Angel. I had read about them in the various files in the Torchwood archives but hoped and prayed I wouldn't ever have to deal with them. If Ollie had gotten his grandson to call me, that meant that Ollie had been caught.

My eyes widened in fear as I felt tears prick into my eyes. There was no way of killing an Angel unless you had a mirror or had them all looking at one and other. My gun was useless against them.

"Thank you," I whispered into the phone before looking back at the hallway.

No.

No. No. No.

It was just standing in the hallway. Eyes covered with two hands, guarding the door as if it knew I was going to try and run. The light continued to flicker but not to the point that it completely shadowed the creature in darkness.

I kept my eyes on the figure, using my ability to wink with both eyes with ease to my advantage. If I at least kept one eye on it, the sucker couldn't move.

Yet my relief was short lived as there was a smash to my right. The office window had been smashed and there stood an angel, eyes wide, teeth bared into a snarl, fingernails long and sharp enough to impale.

Panic slipped in as I realised I hadn't been looking at the hallway Angel. A quick glimpse confirmed my fears as now it had changed from a meek weeping statue to a grotesque figure ready to kill. Arms outstretched, teeth bared, fucking terrifying.

A quick idea hit me as I quickly opened my camera into selfie mode and turned it onto the Angel at the window which was now no longer at the window but had climbed in and had been inches from grabbing me.

My stomach dropped as I realised I had been fucking inches from death.

"Bastard," I muttered under my breath

I kept my gaze on the hallway Angel, attempting to slow my breathing as I walked down the hallway toward the front door. I kept my eyes glued on the screen as the window Angel had barely moved from its position by the window. I considered ducking down, but the angels were looking in differing angles to be looking directly at each other.

I continued the winking shift until I got to the door. Once I had reached it, I kept the camera on the office and my eyes on the one in the hallway and rattled the door handle.

No.

No.

It was fucking locked.

One of those bastards must've locked it. What's more, the flickering was starting to get more rapid and I was in arms reach to the hallway Angel.

"You're all bastards," I whispered as a tear fell down my cheek as the light finally dimmed to the point I couldn't see anything.

In that instant of darkness, I felt a firm grip grasp my wrist.

I cannot put into words what I felt next. It was like a hook had lodged itself up my nose and was pulling me backwards as time itself seemed to flash before my eyes. Blues, pinks, yellows, greens, oranges, and purples danced before my eyes in so many different patterns as they taunted me. The very brief free fall seemed to last forever and it's end came with a crash.

I winded myself as I fell backwards into a pile of pots and pans.

All of the oxygen had been forced out of my lungs as I crashed down onto my arse and found it hard to breathe. Each breath felt like a cold sting to the lungs and my head refused to stop aching from either the time travel or hitting my head against the wall or a combination of both.

I heard thundering footsteps approach the dimly lit room and could only observe as the door swung open and a man in dated clothing stepped into the room holding a candelabra.

His face shifted into a warm smile.

"We've got another one,"

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter. I've recently gotten back into Black Butler and have always liked the idea of a modern character finding their way into their world and was intrigued with what would happen if I merged the Doctor Who/ Torchwood Universe with Black Butler.

I apologise if Miriam is a bit flat at the moment, I plan to flesh her out in the next chapter and talk more about her background and further develop her.

Again thank you so much for reading and please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I stared at the man at the door with wide eyes and a pit in my stomach. This was all a bad dream. It had to be. From where I was sitting, everything just looked so wrong. The lights were wrong, the walls were wrong, everything was just so wrong.

He approached me slowly and as he did, I put my hand in my pocket and felt around for my gun. I couldn't trust anyone until I got my baring. Who knows, I might be in the realms of a murderer who knows where Angels drop off their victims.

"Come on, now. Stand up for me and I'll get you a nice cup of tea and a blanket. I'm going to need you to be patient with me as I explain everything to you, is that ok?" he asked

All I could do was helplessly nod and hold his arm as he guided me to my feet. The sudden time travel had really messed with my sense of balance and sense of self. I could be led into a pit of lava and my brain would probably keep telling me that everything was fine and that I had nothing to worry about.

There was no doubt the Angels had gotten me. I now just needed to find out where the hell I was and just try to adapt as best I could. I knew there was no way back without a time machine. That I was certain of. As much as it does you good to hope, sometimes the only thing you can do is look for silver linings. I hated being realistic, but it was the only way I could stop myself from obsessing over daydreams.

I suddenly felt the arms I had been clutching steady my arms and guide me into a plump armchair before covering me with a blanket. In front of me was a large fireplace that was currently roaring and bathing me in a pleasant heat. My hands went to my face as the reality started to seep in.

I was dead.

The Angels has killed me.

And I was God knows where.

My emotions were still all over the place. I was too in shock to cry but I just wanted to sob every last bit of the pain away. It felt like multiple lumps had formed on my chest and were restraining my breathing. The candle lit room around me seemed to spin and the dim colours still found a way to blind me. Everything was too much in that moment. My thoughts wouldn't stop racing and farting around the room.

I clutched my head as another wave of pain spat through my brain. I gasped and clenched my jaw, clenching my eyes closed and trying to ride out the pain, yet all I ended up doing was crashing to the floor in a heap, still holding onto my pounding head.

"Miss?"

There was a flurry of rushed footsteps coming towards me as there was a clatter of what sounded like a tea set on the other side of the room. I then felt two pairs of arms hold me and try to pry my arms from my face.

"Get the fuck off me!" I snapped, not daring to look at who had tried to take my hands away from my face.

"Come on now, you need to calm down and not talk with such distasteful manners," the man who had sat me in the room chided

I didn't dare move from my huddled position on the floor. The reality that now surrounded me would only hurt my head and heart more.

"I didn't ask for you to tell me I have bad manners, I just want to go back," I groaned as the pain slowly started to ebb away.

"You can't. Well, we have yet to find a way to send you lot back," the man said as he gently placed his hands on my shoulders.

"What do you mean by that?" I cried

"Sit down and I'll explain as much as I can to you,"

I hesitantly started to raise my head out of my hands so that I could see who it was that had tried calming me. As I raised my head, the dim light was no longer blinding and the air had slowly became much more manageable to breathe in. It was still musty and slightly heavy from the burning firewood, but it was oxygen nonetheless.

I finally got a good look at him. The first thing that struck me was how old he was. From his youthful voice, I assumed he was close to my age and in his early to mid twenties, however, he appeared to be in his mid forties with salt and pepper grey hair that had been parted down the middle and gelled down. His face was rather pointed and thin with a bushy mustache that curled at the edges.

Both his clothing and hair were outdated. A crisp white shirt and green tie coupled with a faded green tweed waist coat and light brown trousers. From the overall appearance, I estimated that I had been sent to the early 1900's, possibly the early edge of World War One. His accent was quite upper crust and posh rather than one of neutrality or even a regional accent.

That told me at least one thing. The Angels had really sent me back.

Trying to wrap my head around it just made it throb, so I attempted to remain as calm as possible.

His eyes twinkled with kindness as he stretched out his hand and I begrudgingly took it. Once I was stood up, he guided me back into my seat and took a seat in a plush red chair opposite me.

"Dolores, can you pour our guest some tea?"

"Certainly, sir," the maid who must have come to my aid when I fell out of my chair placed an ornate cup and saucer in front of me. She then proceeded to pour the tea and place it in front of me. I nodded in thanks before putting a sugar cube into the tea and stirred it.

"Now, before I start explaining everything I know, I just want to ask a few questions about yourself. Is that alright?"

I nodded.

He pulled out a piece of paper from his desk a fountain pen. All personalized. Very much a rich man.

"What is your name?"

"Miriam Blaustein,"

"Age?"

"Twenty Four,"

"Date of Birth?"

I hesitated. Do I tell him the year? Would he send me away to Bethlem or some other mental institution for telling him the truth? During my time studying history and politics, I remember visiting the Bethlem Museum of the Mind when it opened in order to find inspiration for my dissertation and learnt about some unsavoury treatments that went on.

He nodded.

"I know,"

"Huh?"

He knows what? That I'm not supposed to be here? That this is all just a big misunderstanding? That I was sent back in time by some fucking statues.

"The Moving Statues. Others have been sent here and you will probably meet them tomorrow morning during breakfast. I have a general grasp as to what these creatures are, however, on behalf of Her Majesty, I am collecting information about those who have been attacked by the creatures and learn more about them,"

Others? There were others here? Could Ollie be here? Also if he was collecting information this sensitive on behalf of the Queen, could be too be Torchwood? As in early basis of Torchwood?

He had created more questions to weave their way around my mind. But he did hint one thing.

I was in an early time period than I first thought. I assumed 1910's, however, Queen Victoria died at the very beginning of the 20th century. At least there was that nugget of knowledge that I was in the Victorian era.

"13th January 1995,"

He nodded and wrote it down as if I had just told him that my favorite colour was blue.

"Date of capture?"

"24th November 2019,"

"Place of Birth?"

"Um...Lewisham,"

"Occupation?"

I gulped and swallowed.

"Torchwood,"

It was at that he finally looked up and put his pen down. The expression on his face was hard to read but I could tell I had said something that had hit a nerve.

He looked at me and smiled.

"Interesting. Were you by chance investigating these creatures?"

"Yes,"

He gave me a half smile and leaned forward. The look on his face was similar to that of a child in a sweet shop. So much intrigue and fascination rolled into one person was slightly unnerving but at least he wasn't accusing me of being mentally unstable.

"Well, any information you have on the statues will be of great use to us," was all he said

"Are you with Torchwood?" I asked

It was possibly blindingly obvious that he was due to his understanding of the absolutely bizarre and acceptance of it. But I just needed him to confirm it and let me know I wasn't so alone.

"I am indeed. We were formed nearly ten years ago on the order of her Majesty, Queen Victoria to defend the British Empire from alien threat. But I assume you know that already?"

I nodded.

Just my luck! Out of all the places the Angels could have sent me and the others, they sent us to the hub of alien understanding. Praise be!

"Right, on with the profile. Previous education?"

"As in university?"

"Any education you have received will be noted,"

"Oh right. I attended Flatmore Primary, Hardwick State Comprehensive and sixth form, and received a Bachelors Degree in History and Politics from Edinburgh University,"

Like an absolute champ, the guy just took all of this information down despite the fact that the idea of a woman in a university was preposterous with the first university exam sat by women being in the early stages.

"Excellent. Now, can you give me a brief statement as to how you got here?"

I nodded.

"I was investigating a series of disappearances from a particular location in Suffolk. My friend had gone to investigate another part of the house and then someone called claiming to be his grandson telling me to get out of there. I tried to leave but the lights turned out and... well here I am,"

The man opposite me nodded as he took everything I said down. He then placed the paper to the side and pulled out a new piece.

"Before we move on, has a guy by the name of Ollie Jones get here?" I questioned, hoping for him to say yes and give me the satisfaction of knowing he was in a safe place.

The guy immediately shook his head.

"No one by that name has been recorded. Was he your companion?" he replied

"Oh, yes he was," I whispered as tears stung my eyes. An added reminder that nobody that I loved had been conjured into existence.

Crap. I shouldn't have even been born, yet here I was, chilling with a member of the original Torchwood group.

"Well. Now that the form is complete for now, what can you tell me about the statues?"

I thought for a few moments to allow for my head to settle down.

"They're known as Weeping Angels and have a defense system that turns them into stone when they're being observed. They feed of... like time energy. So the days you're supposed to live are fed off of whilst the victim is sent back in time and live out a full life until they die. That's all I really know. Sorry,"

The man smiled and shook his head.

"Don't worry, dear girl. It's more information than we had and I'm grateful for it. Now we know the reason behind why people are being sent back but now it's working out why they're being sent here in particular. Any ideas?"

I shrugged.

"Possible magnetism to the energy here in this time period. Which reminds me, where am I and who are you?"

I had been questioned for so long that I had forgotten that I didn't know who I was with and where I was.

"Ah yes. You are in a townhouse in Kensington. It's previous owners were relocated due to the amount of activity that was taking place here. Different things started happening such as the appearance of people from the future, different alien technology just being dumped here, odd sounds in the night, that sort of thing. The date is February 25th 1888 and our current monarch is Her Majesty, Queen Victoria,"

The only thing I could think of was a possible time rift close by. A small crack in time and space that allowed for junk from other dimensions to appear. It could explain why some of us were drawn to this location but not so much why others hadn't been sent here. I could be wrong though as I only know of the Cardiff rift and the Canary Warf rift. Nothing of the Kensington Rift.

But it could be something that has been erased from history books.

Yet I did not voice any of these thoughts. I had become so very tired. I sipped at my tea in an attempt to steady my nerves whilst appearing cool and collected as these thoughts and theories buzzed around my head like angry hornets.

"And your name?" I asked

"My name is Ernest Havisham, Head of Torchwood,"

One of the first heads of Torchwood and I was speaking with him. Holy shit!

Once I had finished my tea, I leaned back into my chair as I had realised how completely exhausted I was. My sleep had been slightly fucked before I came here, so I doubt it was any surprise that my lack of sleep was catching up with me.

"Dolores, show Miss Blaustein to one of the spare rooms, please. Give her a bath and something to sleep in. I will inform Her Majesty of the new edition to Torchwood. Our first female operative,"

As I was being helped up by the maid, I turned to Ernest in surprise.

"You want me to work for Torchwood?" I asked

He nodded.

"You have previous experience and I have been informed that the future for females are brighter than they are at the moment. So I think we should set an example. If that's what you want?"

"Yes, thank you so much!"

"Goodnight, Miss Blaustein. We shall speak more tomorrow morning,"

"Goodnight, Ernest," I said before leaving the room with Dolores.

—

I felt like a child as I sat in the tin bath filled with lukewarm water and having Dolores scrub my back.

As I had been lead around the house to my room, I couldn't help but feel surprised by the sheer size of the place and wonder how much it would cost today. If it was Kensington, this place would probably be in the tens of millions of pounds.

"You have such lovely hair, miss. Very straight and shiny," Dolores said as she started washing my hair with a bar of soap.

"Thank you," I replied

Although it felt odd being naked in front of her and having her groom me, it felt nice and not once did Dolores make me feel self conscious. It was like being naked in front of a doctor or a friend, it was someone so used to nudity that it didn't even register with myself that I was naked in front of a complete stranger.

Dolores then poured water from a jug into my hair several times to get rid of the soap suds. Her hands were so gentle and soothing that I just felt so at ease.

"Right, Miss. You're all done. I will fetch you a towel and night dress,"

Dolores walked over to the bed and grabbed two towels before walking back over to me. It felt extremely odd that I was having a bath in my room (which was surprisingly big) yet I guess I just had to get with the times.

I stood up and allowed for Dolores to towel dry my body and hair before stepping out of the bath and onto the towel, where she continued to dry me off.

Once I had been dried off, she grabbed my nightgown from the bed and placed it on me. It was long and reached down to my ankles with long sleeves that puffed out slightly and a collar around the neck. I was rather fond of it as the cotton of the nightgown was quite comfortable.

She then led me to the dressing table and motioned me to take a seat, where she produced a hairbrush.

"It must be so strange for you to be here," Dolores whispered as she stroked the brush through my damp hair.

"I hadn't really thought about it," I lied

"Master Emmett and the others in Torchwood have been so kind taking everyone in and giving them jobs around the city,"

"How many others are there?" I asked

Dolores thought for a few moments.

"There's six of you now. All of them from so many different times,"

"Do any of them work for Torchwood?"

"Only one. He was an army captain in a war in Britain that is to take place in seventy years. These Angels seem to be a rotten bunch,"

"Indeed,"

The way Dolores just shrugged off the fact that there was to be a war was slightly perplexing, but then again, being a maid to Torchwood meant that she probably heard all sorts.

"I'm sorry if it's not my place, but would you like a sleeping drought for tonight? Those who have come here have suffered awful nightmares and in a right state of grief,"

I nodded and thanked Dolores as I wondered back into my mind when she went to fetch the sleeping drought (which from my memory of one of my modules was probably something with opium).

The loneliness struck me like a knife and I went back to realising I was dead probably pronounced dead to my parents and older brother, Samuel. Who knows if anyone stopped the Angels after Ollie and I had left?

I felt tears prick at my eyes as I had remembered that the last thing I had said to my mother on the phone was that I would be in Suffolk for the weekend and once I had finished, I was going to go down to London for the night before going back to work.

I felt the tears now start to pour down my cheeks as I thought about how she had been told I had died or how Torchwood realised that Ollie and I were dead. Had they gone down to the house when we didn't turn up on the Monday morning? Or had the B&B called them when my car hadn't left on the Sunday morning?

What had they been told?

In that moment, I would have given anything to call my mother and tell her that I was ok. I wanted her to tell me everything was alright.

Even though it irritated me to no end, I wanted my father to start singing old Simon and Garfunkel songs whilst walking around in his comical Sesame Street pyjamas.

I hid my head in my hand as sobs wracked my body. Who knew that having a stone touch you had this kind of effect on a person?

And I knew I couldn't change anything. Somewhere out there in my timeline is possibly a headstone with my name on it and my body deep within it. Who knows if anyone was caring for it or placing flowers in it? Maybe Torchwood explained everything to my parents and found me in the very old Torchwood system before taking them to my grave? It would have to be exceptional circumstances and maybe they gave them a retcon (memory erasing) pill after they paid their respects.

This uncertainty was horrifying and made me feel like I had been thrown into a never ending pit.

Dolores came into the room and placed a small glass bottle next to me on the dressing table and stroked my head softly.

"It's going to be alright, Miss," she whispered

She then picked the bottle up as I lifted my head and handed it to me. It was a small clear lightly decorated bottle with a reddish brown mixture in it. It was labelled 'Laudanum Opioid tincture'.

Well, when in Rome, start a never ending opioid addiction.

I drunk the bitter and strong tasting liquid like a shot before feeling slightly woozy from the get go.

Dolores led me to the bed whilst whispering soothing words that I didn't seem to register as the drug started taking fast action. She helped me climb into the bed and tucked me in.

"Can you stay until I fall asleep?" I asked meekly

I didn't want to be left alone until I was sure that I wasn't going to be plagued by nightmares.

"Of course, Miss,"

"Please, call me Mia," I whispered as my eyes started to feel like weights has been attached to them.

My body had a pleasant floaty and fuzzy feeling that was so welcoming and just nice.

Yeah, I was definitely hooked on opioids now.

Dolores blew out the candles and left the room as my eyes were completely shut and my breathing steadied itself.

—

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. It's going to start picking up next chapter as I wanted to just start out establishing the world before getting right into the action.


End file.
